


The Gift

by FantasticHobo



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Lemon, Mild Blood, My First Smut, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticHobo/pseuds/FantasticHobo
Summary: A faithful Illidari has an encounter with her Master.
Relationships: Illidan Stormrage/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> With this submission I've popped my fic-writing cherry, so go easy on me, please...  
> (Unless you're Illidan. Then come at me hard, demon daddy.)  
> Thank you to Gwyn, my newest and most amazing writing muse, who has given me so many good ideas in such a short amount of time. <3

Meiane was the last to step through the portal. As she took a breath, her senses scanning the assembly of weary, battle-scarred Illidari who surrounded her, she finally allowed her screaming muscles to relax. She lowered her arms, cradling the heavy book she had carried through with her. It was bound in some sort of flesh and it stank with rot, but she could also sense the sigils of power radiating from it. This was a priceless find. A treasure beyond words.

A gift.

Before she could speak, all of the demon hunters had their attention drawn by heavy steps approaching from the far side of the chamber. They knew the sound of their lord’s hooves, moving with slow and deliberate steps toward them. Meiane could sense several of them draw breaths; many others dropped immediately to one knee. But the Slayer was silent. She kept the offensive book in her arms and stood straight, unmoving.

“Slayer Meiane.” At his voice, she felt a rush of electricity run down her spine.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“How many were lost?”

Meiane licked her lips. She felt her spectral vision quickly running a tally, as she had before. She knew the answer already, but she dared not be wrong. Not now.

“None, my Lord.”

Illidan Stormrage made a soft “hmm” sound that could be interpreted as either approval or disbelief. His steps continued, moving past the ranks of her fellows, and brought him standing directly in front of her.

She could sense his preternatural gaze on her. Although they stood several feet apart, the power she felt radiating from him was intoxicating… almost overwhelming. Meiane’s demonic side pulsed with hunger. _“I want what he has… what he is. So much strength. So much power. Take it from him!”_

Meiane set her jaw and forced the voices to quiet. She realized all of a sudden that he was waiting on her to either speak or to show what she held in her arms. She decided the latter would please him more. Her arms unfolded and stretched out, displaying the grotesque tome that seemed to thrum with its own twisted energies.

“The raid on Jar’quer was a success. We slew many demons and were able to secure this tome. It contains not only the names of commanders, but several rituals for summoning and control.”

Lord Illidan’s wings arced slightly, then drew in close to him again, like a cape. “Were you able to _read_ that book?”

Meiane’s muscles tensed. Was he testing her? Had her curiosity, her hunger for knowledge forced her to break some unspoken rule? Despite her fear, she knew immediately that lying was folly. He would be able to tell.

“Yes, my Lord. Somewhat. Some of the words of the rituals are lost to me.”

“Hmm.” This time the amusement was clear in his tone. She continued to hold the book out, waiting for him to take it. Although it contained untold power, even though she desired to learn its secrets and grow closer to being what he was… she had brought it for him. A gift.

In his moment of pause, he seemed to have made a decision. She felt him turn away and for a few miserable seconds she also felt dismissed. Perhaps what she thought was special was really nothing at all: just a smattering of Legion incantations that he had learned ages ago. _“So foolish… to think I could bring him something of use.”_ Meiane pulled the book back to her chest, fighting the urge to toss it to the side and be done with it.

But then his voice caught her again like a snake’s quick strike.

“Bring the book and come with me, Slayer. The rest of you, good work. Rest now. I will need you again on the morrow.”

Wordlessly Meiane followed him, the tome still clutched tight against her body.

They left the main hall of his gloomy keep, the place that used to house Draenei reveling in the Light, and made their way through a maze of corridors and silent halls. Meiane found herself trying to remember the path; she had never been this far into the temple’s depths and the progression left her dizzy. Neither of them spoke, even as they reached their destination: a room that used to be a chapel, perhaps, but now transformed into a windowless library. Meiane’s spectral sight brought forth the frescoes on the high walls, now covered by column after column of bookshelves, all filled to the brim. Writings from every angle seemed to call to her, humming with mysteries that only demons or Illidari could sense. The throes of power overwhelmed her and Meiane had to stand in the doorway for a moment, clutching the book as if it were a life preserver and weaving back and forth on her feet.

Illidan seemed to sense her reaction and he turned to her. Meiane imagined that the cocky tone to his voice matched the smirk he must be wearing. “You can feel it, can’t you? There is enough power in this singular room to reduce Azeroth -- possibly multiple Azeroths -- to ash floating through the cosmos. That is why it’s so important to liberate these tomes from the Legion.”

He moved close enough to her to reach for the book, and his Slayer loosened her arms and offered the gift to him. Instead of taking it, he placed both his hands on her forearms.

“You’ve done me a great service in bringing this back,” Illidan said, and slid his hands from her arms to grasp the tome itself. The sudden heat and motion of his skin against hers, combined with the raw energies of the room itself, almost caused her to lose her balance. Drawing a breath, she managed to keep herself upright.

“You have served me well for some time,” her Lord continued, turning away from her to open the book in his large hands. “It seems to me that a reward is in order.”

Before she could rein in her careless tongue, her silence was broken. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

“You know what I usually grant to those who please me. Power, renown among Illidari and all my forces. The promise to see your enemies destroyed.”

Meiane remained silent; she didn’t see the need to respond. He would choose something for her, no doubt. He could have chosen anything at all and she would have accepted it without argument, without question. A gift for a gift. A gift from her lord.

Which made her all the more surprised when he dropped the book on his ebony desk and strode back to her, standing close this time -- mere inches away -- close enough that she could feel his breath on her face when he leaned down toward her. “But those things aren’t what you want, are they?”

Meiane felt her breath catch in her throat. If she had entered a room full of Dreadlords, her reaction would be no different: the tiny hairs on the back of her neck raised; the skin across her arms prickled, she felt a rush of heat spread from her belly into her chest and then throughout the rest of her. It was not an uncomfortable feeling, but it made her immediately vulnerable. “I… I don’t… I couldn’t…”

His chuckle was dark and rather humorless. “You think I don’t sense it?” He leaned even closer, so that his voice was a low rumble in her ear. “You think I don’t _smell_ it? If you can sense the demons waiting in the caves beyond, if you can smell their blood and their sweat, imagine how much more I can sense. I know how your heart races whenever I draw near. I smell the hormones in your blood and hear the succubi voices in your head beg to be in my bed.”

The thrum of her heart in her chest only served to confirm what he already knew. To Meiane though, it felt as if her body were betraying her. _And what if he is testing me again?_ her panicked mind asked. _If I admit it, will he see me as a worthless chit? Showing weakness and desire rather than strength and resolve? What would HE possibly gain from this?_

Almost as if reading her thoughts ( _maybe he is,_ she fretted), Illidan gave another dry chuckle. “It would be nice if we no longer had to fend off these thoughts and feelings, wouldn’t it? Sometimes I miss being a simple mortal. But we are not simple mortals, nor are we full demons. We linger somewhere between the two, and we are cursed with the desires of both.”

He paused then, and suddenly his wings extended and drew close around her, holding them both in a dark cocoon. She could feel the heat… no, it was more than that, it was lust... radiating from him, and that sudden realization caused her to take a sharp, ragged breath.

“So tell me what it is you desire, Illidari Meiane, and perhaps we will find an answer that benefits us both.”

“You.” Meiane murmured, though she did not move. “I want you.”

She still wasn’t sure whether he meant any of it or not, until she felt him shift even closer and lower his mouth to hers. For a few seconds, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost a caress… and then like an ember swirling and catching on dry tinder, flames erupted. Meiane pushed forward, reaching for him. Her hands found the bare skin of his chest and nearly recoiled at the heat of him… he felt as if he was burning. His tongue sank within her mouth and met hers; she pushed back against it hungrily.

Illidan’s hands reached for the curves of her waist, finding plenty of bare flesh there to grasp. The sensation of having his hands on her skin sent wave after wave of electric pulses through her, beginning with the top of her spine and radiating down into the tender flesh between her thighs. His claws raked her skin and in response Meiane arched her back, pressing her chest forward against his. The fire only intensified.

He broke the kiss suddenly and drew his wings back, releasing much of the heat that had been building around them. With the sudden absence of his touch, Meiane felt the demon within snarl to life. _“MORE!”_ it raged, and beneath the ragged bandages that covered her eyes, fel fire blazed to a nearly yellow core. Her lips, still parted and swollen from his attentions, pulled back in a grimace as her tongue licked the last of his saliva from her skin. 

The Slayer’s clear lust was not lost on Illidan. But he was silent for a moment as he breathed in the scent of her and gauged just how much of an effect he was having. A slow grin grew on his face -- not exactly pleased, but more wicked and teasing. 

“More?” he asked, clearly knowing the answer already.

“More,” Meiane begged, and the demon in her mind and her flesh hissed its approval.

This time when he leaned forward to kiss her, Illidan’s hands went to the clasps of leather along her back that secured her armor, and she felt his claws dig into the hide as if it were paper-thin. With an easy rip, he tore the leather away from her and it fell to the ground in shreds. Meiane shuddered at the feeling of her bare breasts touching his chest, but it paled in comparison to feeling his hands double back around to her front and take hold of them. He squeezed them gently at first, then more ardently, his claws finding purchase on her firm nipples and pinching them both at the same time. Now it was Meiane who broke their fervent kiss to gasp in a combination of pain and pleasure. This reaction seemed to please Illidan, and he released one nipple to grab at her waist and pull her close to him, their bodies sliding against one another in immediate, delicious friction.

Meiane felt the swell of his manhood clearly through his pants, pressing against her mound and belly, and now her hunger was intense enough that she didn’t waste any time considering what her lord’s reaction might be. She reached down and pressed a hand against his length, sliding her fingers to its base, gripping more firmly as she pulled upward again. A surprised growl escaped Illidan’s throat.

“More,” she murmured, surprised at her own forwardness. Especially with him.

Pants were ripped at the seams as his hands found the edges of her leather leggings and he pulled them down ungently. Her boots were kicked off and forgotten. Meiane hardly noticed that he had guided her across the room to a low cushion; a Sin’dorei reading nook in the corner that seemed unused and ignored. She was nude now, and as he continued advancing on her she found herself sitting on the edge of the softness, her unseeing eyes tilted upward toward him.

Meiane’s hands went up again, rubbing and squeezing the still-hidden thick shaft that now rested at eye level. Illidan hooked his fingers into his trousers and pulled them down and off in a smooth movement. Though her eyes didn’t provide her with the sight she so craved, her hands quickly filled in the details: he was as long and thick as she had somehow suspected he would be, easily twice the length of her hands. His shaft pulsed under her exploring fingers. With one hand she squeezed his length again, the other cradled and teased his scrotum. Meiane could feel a deep rumble of approval radiating from his chest.

Another stab of desire made its way through her body, causing her womanhood to almost _ache_ in need. At the same time, Illidan stepped forward just enough for the head of his cock to position in front of her lips… and Meiane needed no further persuasion. She leaned forward hungrily, lips parted, and took the head of his length into her mouth. Her tongue slipped around its edges, relishing its curves, then down and down as he slowly pressed deeper.

_“More,”_ came the demon’s cry, this time within her belly and between her legs, within the soft folds of skin that begged for ravaging.

She thought only for a moment that she might choke, but it was a sensation that she easily suppressed. As he began to move his hips, his manhood sinking into her throat bit by bit, Meiane wrapped her hands around his waist and her claws dug into his ass. His groan of pleasure was more than enough motivation to continue.

As Illidan began to push a little more insistently, and it became clear to Meiane that she wouldn’t be able to fit his entire length, she wrapped both hands around the base of his shaft and moved them rhythmically with his thrusts. She had the sudden intense desire to make him cum, to feel his seed hot on her face and lips, to taste it and revel in it. Her mouth tightened ever so slightly; sharp teeth raked against tender skin and the sudden gasp it brought from him made Meiane believe for a moment that she may get her wish. 

Then suddenly Illidan drew back, pulling away from her, his own hand coming to rest against the base of his shaft and slowly working up and down its length. The Slayer had to fight the urge to leap forward onto him, so great was her desire to feel his touch again.

“Turn over,” he commanded, and Meiane obeyed.

She propped herself up on all fours, her ass raised suggestively. Glimmers of moisture played along the folds of her cleft. When Illidan placed a hand on one firm cheek, her entire body seemed to quiver.

Meiane expected -- she desperately wanted -- to feel the head of his manhood bear into her. So it surprised her a bit when she felt his mouth close down on one side of her ass, sucking and biting at the skin. He moved to another spot, then another, and she felt his teeth piercing her a little bit harder each time. Firm hands kept her in place, his long nails pressing into her flesh and only serving to heighten the pleasure and the pain. Meiane writhed. Little gasps escaped her throat with every suck and every nip.

“Does that hurt?” Illidan purred. There was a hint of sarcasm to his voice; he knew very well what he was doing. “Should I stop?”

Meiane scoffed. It was the first time she’d ever dared to come close to laughing or expressing an opinion in front of him. “My Lord has a sense of humor,” she murmured, her voice low and husky with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

She felt his deep rumble of assent.

Suddenly his hands were at the base of her ass and he spread her cheeks. A finger played at the edge of her moist lips, gently prodding… then another… he sank them into her easily, finding her womanhood wet and eager. His middle finger found her center, that impossibly sensitive nub of nerves, and stroked it with a masterful touch. Meiane felt her body tensing; her breath came fast in her throat and left her panting. Just as she was about to reach an apex, his clever hands withdrew. For a moment she felt a stab of need and rage; she turned her head to aim a glare at him, but -

\-- the head of his cock slid down her folds as he positioned himself and made ready, and every muscle, sinew and fiber in Meiane’s body was suddenly crying out _“yes, YES”_ \--

When he plunged into her, her moan of satisfaction was immediate and primal.

If she thought he had been too much for her throat, she was still unprepared for the feeling of having all of his cock throbbing and thrusting within her center. Illidan’s hips moved with raw need; there was no obstacle between him and his desire now, nothing to temper his fel flame. His urgency was like a wave of pain breaking over her, leaving her adrift and helpless, but she sensed it was only temporary. She was a demon hunter, after all. Pain was a frequent visitor, one she knew well, and one who was not always unwelcome.

It took only moments for the pain to become pleasure. A gift from the demon within, perhaps.

She began to push back against him then, meeting his thrusts with her own. Welts followed the streaks of his nails. He reached higher and grasped her shoulders, angling his hips to drive into the hottest, tightest part of her, forcing them both to gasp in unison. Illidan dragged his claws down the length of her back and Meiane’s moans became screams of “more, MORE!”

Her hips bucked and Meiane sank down onto her forearms as her first orgasm enveloped her. She panted and writhed, moaned and cried out, riding waves of pleasure she had never reached in her long life. Illidan tempered himself momentarily but did not stop; instead he guided her through with masterful strokes, bringing her up to the brink again just as she thought the storm was passing. Did she cum once, or twice? She wasn’t sure.

She only knew that it wasn’t yet enough. And Illidan wasn’t done with her.

He had given her time enough to recover by slowing his pace a bit, though it was more than apparent that her lord enjoyed her in this position. His strokes were slower and more deliberate, but still driving deep into her core. Illidan growled with approval as Meiane raised herself up on her arms again and angled her face toward his.

“My Illidari is resilient.” His deep voice seemed pleased.

Illidan reached forward and grasped Meiane’s long braid. She felt him wrap its length around his hand, and chills of excitement arched across her skin as he gently tugged.

Then suddenly, as if he had decided he had enough of such a simple game, he grabbed her ass with his other hand and thrust into her -- again, and again, and again -- his pace quickening to surpass even the speed with which they had started. Not content with mere welts, his fingers pierced her skin and found hot streaks of blood. As he pulled her braid roughly, her head fell back with a cry of anguished elation.

For those long minutes, Meiane ceased to exist and her demon felt free.

She climaxed again, and then again, before at last she heard Illidan’s moans grow louder and raspier; he released her braid and climbed forward onto her, pushing her down against the cushion, hilting her completely as his orgasm slammed into both of them like a tidal wave ravaging a shore. Illidan continued to pump as his seed filled her; she felt the heat of it sliding from her very full cunt to run in rivulets down her legs. Without consciously considering it, Meiane reached past her mound and slid her fingers through the mixture of their fluids. She drew her hand back to lick each finger slowly, savoring the taste of their coupling.

Illidan gave a groan of satisfaction as he reached the end of his climax. He seemed as hesitant to withdraw from her as she was to have him go. When he finally pulled free and rolled onto the cushion next to her, Meiane felt physically and mentally empty. Even her demon, usually such an insistent, forceful voice in her mind, seemed to have vanished.

The Slayer lay still for a moment, catching her breath. Unexpectedly she felt his warm hand touch her hip, slick with blood and sweat. Then his arm slipped around her torso and Illidan pulled her close.

_“Neither mortal nor demon,”_ was the last thought she had before sleep claimed her.

\----------------

She woke suddenly, the sound of her own strangled gasp startling her. She could feel light and warmth pouring into the room. _“Daylight? Here?”_

Then she remembered where she was. Stormwind. This small, borrowed home. Outside she could hear the distant cries of gulls and the ringing of ships’ bells from the bay.

Meiane groaned and shifted uncomfortably beneath her thin sheets. One hand stole between her thighs and she found herself sopping wet… the dream had felt too real. It had left her aching and frustrated.

She could take care of it herself, as she always did… but much to her own chagrin, she found herself wishing, for the first time in a long while, for a man in her bed.


End file.
